Dreamer by Savannah Campbell (best motivational books of all time .txt) 📖

in the weeks since she got it. She has her math class, her semester of physical science and foreign language all before lunch. Well it’s good that I’m getting my favorites out of the way, Irene thinks sarcastically. She looks at the watch keychain on her bag and sees she has about seven minutes before the bell rings. Might as well go on to homeroom I guess.

 She walks down the hallway opposite her locker and soon reaches the classroom. It is fairly empty; most students wait until the two or three minutes to go mark before entering homeroom. She sees a guy her age with dirty blonde hair sitting in the front row. He hears her footsteps approach and looks up. He smiles at her with all of his face and the smile crinkles area around his hazel eyes. She smiles back out of politeness and sits beside him. She hopes he doesn’t talk to her right away or even assume that just because he smiled she decided to sit beside him. The front row is my preferred area to sit buddy boy. Irene thinks.

Minutes pass by quickly and soon the rest of the class shuffles in followed by their teacher, Mrs. Whitworth. Irene tries to remember what she’s heard about Mrs. Whitworth since she’ll be back here in about an hour for physical science. Is she the one who grades rough and cares most about pushing students to their best as a result? Or is she the burned out one who grades easily and doesn’t really care one way or another? She’s still trying to remember when Mrs. Whitworth calls out her name.

Irene raises her hand to acknowledge that she is indeed there. After finishing the roster, Mrs. Whitworth pauses a minute before dismissing everyone.

“Class, before you go, I want to introduce you to a transfer student we have joining us this year. He comes to us from Shelbyburg Prep in our state neighbor to the west. Everyone, please meet Geoff Raleigh.” She tells the students as she mispronounces Geoff as two syllables: Gee-off.

“I also sometimes go by Geoff. It’s short for Geoffrey,” he says, and pronounces his name Jeff. “It’s a stupid spelling of my name but what can you do with parents who fell in love thanks to Canterbury Tales as well as other classic literature huh?”

The class including Mrs. Whitworth laughs. So she’s not the one who doesn’t care, Irene thinks. “Boy your parents must have wanted to confuse you when learning phonetically how to spell.” She says before she can even think to stop herself. The bell rings before Geoff can reply but he follows close behind her as the class leaves.

“You think others names are so difficult since you have one that in and of itself means peace?” He says as she reaches her locker.

She whips her head around, not realizing that he had actually followed her based on a remark she spontaneously let out of her head into conversation.

“No, no,” Irene stutters. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by that joke. I usually think very thoroughly before I make any comments, good or bad and I usually never talk to someone who doesn’t address me first.”

“Well what made me so special and different as to warrant an unsolicited comment?” Geoff replies as they begin walking back to the hall of classrooms to make it back in time for their math period.

“Different being the appropriate word there,” Irene smirks but deep down she feels a large cramp of apprehension. What did make him so different? Why am I even still talking to him? Hopefully I can just ignore this guy for the rest of the year before high school, I mean it’s not like we’ll ever see each other again after next June.

The rest of the day passes by just about as Irene suspected with a few changes that weren’t present during the same day last year. Geoff asked her a few times about how to get to a certain classroom to which she replied with short, succinct answers that usually only meant a point of her hand. Their classmates travelled almost in a lump from subject to subject so unless Geoff had to make any personal stops (he only made one) she would need only to direct him the same way the teenage traffic was headed. In the rare instance when she did say words to him, they were usually sarcastic in nature and quiet in volume about his new scholastic environment.

She feels surprised when he laughed at her remarks and feels taken aback at herself. Since when do I have more than sprinkles of conversation with someone, let alone a boy. What she later identifies as the most the most jarring was that he responded with his own biting comments, sometimes continuing the jokes she makes. He even adds his own personal interpretation of what could be done to make their first day of eighth grade more exciting. He barks a laugh at her suggestion of introducing science class with a galaxy themed song from Monty Python. She smiles despite herself, stifling giggles when he starts to hum the song she references.

By the time the last bell rings to signal to all students that the twenty-minute afterschool period is completed, Irene is more than ready to go home and Geoff acts like a student who has been attending Darrington Day for years instead of just hours. He waves goodbye to her as he walks over to his mother’s VW Van and she walks to her bus. She moves her hand up to return the gesture and does so quickly before her brain processes that she has completed the friendly action.

Irene makes her way to an empty seat and positions herself back into her window viewing from the morning earlier. The cars outside move in an organized format as their drivers follow the directions of a local police officer motioning when a set can go forward and others have to wait. Irene sighs at the familiarity and goes over the day in her head. I guess my teachers think that eighth grade is the one where we deserve to learn about deadlines huh? She thinks as her mind considers how many projects she has to make sure to complete before Halloween. Irene is still thinking about her projects when a conversation girls across the aisle are having breaks her out of her reverie.

“He’s sooo cute isn’t he? You know I heard he did the voice of the younger Simba in The Lion King.” The redhead tells her friend. 

“Really? That’s sooo awesome! I loved that movie as a kid. I wish I could see him in more stuff.” The brunette responds. 

“Well did you ever see Tom and Huck? He’s Tom Sawyer in that.”  

“Ugh, a movie based on that crappy book we had to read last year?! Why would I want to see that?” 

“Well it wasn’t that bad, plus isn’t any excuse to see JTT worth it? I think so.” The first girl sighs. 

Her friend sighs too, “That’s true, you can’t go wrong with a movie if it’s got Jonathan Taylor Thomas in it.” 

Irene suddenly remembers her weird dream from that morning. She wonders if that notebook had in her hand when she woke up is still in her nightstand drawer. Even more so, she wonders if the signature is still on it. How in the world did I manage to do that? Irene thinks. This requires serious research. 

 The bus jerks forward as it stops at the end of her street. She gathers her backpack quickly and runs out to her house, making note of her mom’s car already in the driveway. Good, she can drive me to the library. Irene thinks. 

“Mom! I’m home but I need to go straight to the library for a few hours. I’ve already got projects to research and these won’t wait!” She yells as she runs up the stairs to check her nightstand. 

Her mom is standing by the sink, slicing a pink lady apple. “Sure dear, would you like a snack first?” Ruth says as she finishes slicing the fruit.  

“Not today mom, I’m not really that hungry. Lunch was surprisingly good in comparison to first day meals of the past.” Irene shouts as a hint of a smile starts to pull at her lips. The notebook with its newly written on page is still in the drawer. She shoves it in her backpack quickly and then goes back downstairs. 

Her mom eats her apple and walks to the counter for her keys. “So what projects have been assigned to your brilliant mind this year? I’m sure you’ve got great plans for them already.” 

Irene meets her mother in the hallway and freezes before she answers; she wasn’t expecting to have to provide actual details for her alibi to get to the library. “Oh you know, um, in French, we’re studying more of the history of the country first this year so I have to research and profile a well known French leader. We have to present the entire report in French.” 

Her mom smiles at her as they walk back to the front door. “I’m sure you’ll do great dear, you always get things done so well.” 

Irene blushes as they walk out to the Explorer. The rest of their trip passes by in a comfortable silence. When they reach the library, she tells her mom to come back in about two hours. 

“I’ll be finished with this preliminary research in time for dinner, mom I promise.” Irene says as she gets out of the automobile.  

Her mom nods. “That’s fine dear, I’ll be back here by 5:30. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” Irene replies and walks through the library doors. 

Once inside her mind starts spinning. Where do I start? I know Freud was really into dreams, the nutbar that he was, but he’s more psychology than dreams in general. Well I guess starting out with broad terms couldn’t hurt right? 

The librarian at the front desk takes note of Irene’s hesitation. “Can I help you dearie?” 

Irene nearly jumps at the woman’s voice. “What? Yes sorry. I’m doing a school project on dreams and I didn’t know where exactly I should start.” 

The librarian asks her if she is researching anything in particular about dreams. Irene shakes her head no and she is directed over to the card catalog drawers. The librarian pulls out the one labeled 100. 

“Here you’ll find our books on psychology, I think they should have a good start. You look like a bright girl and can probably find your way after that.” She tells Irene with a sweet smile. “I’ll be at the desk if you need me though.” 

Irene thanks her and when she sees the woman is out of earshot she sighs. What is it with people and the over-abundant praise? Jeez. Irene pulls out a school notebook and begins writing down book numbers to look up.  She sees that these are directly about dreams and other paranormal topics. Bingo!  Irene mentally screams. She checks the watch in the top pocket of her backpack and discovers she still has ninety minutes until her mom is due back to pick her up and immediately goes upstairs so she can find the books and write down as many notes as possible.  

An hour later, she’s barely written anything down from the psychology books. Freud was a freak and thus, no help but these books on dreams are great. Irene pours over them quickly and learns that in order to better remember one’s dreams; one should keep a journal of them. She makes a mental note to buy an extra notebook the next time she goes to CostCo with her mom. She reads on and makes more notes about there have been some people in history who learned how to control their own dreams. Irene closes her notebook satisfied that she has a good beginning in her understanding. As she gets her stuff ready again to meet her mom downstairs, she silently vows to loyally update her dream journal and she also makes plans to research more into what the books meant by lucid dreaming. 

January 2001 

Irene’s breath comes out in short, erratic bursts as she turns a corner and speeds up her running pace again. I’ve never ran before in my waking life, why